


The Laurens Interlude

by MyColorfulMind, NineTalestoTell



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Spoiler-It's Laurens, historical cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 20:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyColorfulMind/pseuds/MyColorfulMind, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NineTalestoTell/pseuds/NineTalestoTell
Summary: “You promised all those many nights ago, in the midst of the scent of blood and the noise of the sick, you promised me you’d be here.” Alexander whispered to himself, the shock wearing off. He was still sat at his desk, unable to find the desire to move. “I knew you’d be coming home any day now, you and I would have a victory drink and reunite with Mulligan and Lafayette, perhaps. I was so sure of so many things…”





	1. The Begining

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyColorfulMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyColorfulMind/gifts).



> Me and my friend wrote this years ago, but back then I didn't know how to add a co-author, so we just put it as a collection in three parts. The collection is still up, but I figured it might get a bit more attention all in one place like this.

It was one of those rare occurrences where Alexander was actually asleep. He didn’t even realize he fell asleep, he had passed out on his papers that he was writing. He only realized he went to sleep when he was awoken by the sound of chaos and muskets firing. His head snapped up, hands and face ink stained. He was confused for a moment before he realized what was going on. The first thing he thought when it finally did register was: John. Where was John? They didn’t share a tent at this camp and he hadn’t come in at any point that he remembered. He grabbed his musket and loaded it as fast as he could with shaky hands. 

He ran out of his tent into chaos. Nobody had noticed him yet. Red and blue coats blurred together as the sound of muskets firing and bayonets clashed with musket barrels filled his ears. He took off, fighting his way through the battle to get to John’s tent. He had to find him. He had to be here somewhere. At some point he’d picked up a bayonet from one of the dead Red Coats. It was too close quarters to fire and try to reload, and he didn’t have that kind of time. He was a man on a mission as he cut through the crowd, desperate to try to get to where he was going.

In the middle of all of this, Alex saw him. He paused and the world seemed to slow as he caught John’s eyes. 

“John!” He called out before taking off toward him. 

John looked over and took off toward him as well. Alex’s eyes widened in horror as he saw a Red Coat turn and take aim. He watched as he pulled the trigger. Alex went to warn John, but it was too late. He heard John cry out as he saw the blood bloom from his shoulder. In the split second that John fell, Alex raised the gun and fired, hitting the Red Coat right between the eyes. He dropped the gun and ran toward John. He dropped down and put a hand on the wound, trying to stem the bleeding as he pulled off his jacket and balled it up. He replaced his hand with the jacket and pressed as hard as he could. 

“John, John stay awake.” Alex said, and looked up. The Red Coats were running, retreating. “Medic!” He yelled. 

“You feel asleep writing again, didn’t you?” John asked. He sounded weak and Alex handed hearing him like that. 

“John, don’t talk.” Alex said. Why wasn’t the medic here yet?“

“You have ink on your face again.” John said as he reached up with his good arm and wiped at a smudge on Alex’s cheek. Alex went to say something but finally, the medics showed up. They moved Alex’s now bloodstained jacket and handed it to him. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Alex asked as he stood up. He tried to follow them to the sick tent, but one of the nurses topped him. “I’m sorry, sir, but you don’t want to go to the sick tent. Trust me.” The woman said. Alex stopped in his tracks and watched as they carried John away. He stood there, not knowing if he would be okay, with John’s blood on his hands.

  


o0o

  


Alexander had to wait a day. A long, long agonizing day. He went by the sick tent at least three times, and each time he was turned away. They said they didn’t need any distractions, and they would let him know as son as possible about John’s condition. It wasn’t soon enough, though. Washington was worried, John was a valuable aide-de-camp and a friend, but he had bigger things to worry about. Lafayette was more of a comfort. He’d seen a little too much but promised to keep it to himself.

“Mon amie, John will be fine. Hei s a strong man.” Lafayette said as he watched Alex pace back and forth.

“He is but you didn’t see it happen.” Alex said. He couldn’t concentrate enough to work. He hated not being able to do anything.

“I know you two are close, but I have never seen you this worked up.” Lafayette said. He was sure he didn’t know about just how close they were.

“It’s more than that, Laf.” Alex said, and sighed. “I L-” He started, but he was cut off by a nurse entering the tent.

“Mr. Hamilton, sir.” She said. “You can come to the sick tent now.“

Alex looked back towards Lafayette.” I have to go.“ He said, before he left with the nurse.

She walked quickly, and held open the tent flap for him when they got there. "Fifth bed, second row.” She said.

Alex entered as she followed, however she went right to work. Alex quickly walked to the bed that the nurse told him John was in. When he first saw John, his heart seized. he was sill , his eyes closed, and his bandage bloodied. No. No, please let him not be here to say goodbye.

But then John groaned and moved. Alex had never felt so relived in all his life. John blinked a bit and squinted up at Alex.

“John? Are you alright? ” Alex asked. He was worried and he knew he sounded it.

“Other than the bullet wound, I’m fine.” John replied and Alex sighed. Oh thank God he was fine.

“Thank God.” He said. “But I swear you are an idiot I thought I lost you!” Alex said as John sat up.

“Why did you not send word that you were fine? I thought you were dead I-” Alex said, trying not to yell and trying not to cry. He was terrified of losing John. He was the one person in this world he would die for.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” John said, wrapping his good arm around Alex shoulder as Alex sat down beside of him on the bed. Alex rested his head on John’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Alex said softly. He could feel tears running down his cheeks. He thought he had lost him.

“I’ll be fine one I heal up, I promise.” John said, rubbing Alex’s shoulder. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” John said, although he didn’t know if it was a promise he could keep.


	2. The Bitter End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part [MyColorfulMind ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyColorfulMind/pseuds/MyColorfulMind) Wrote. She was an is a far better writer than I. I hope you all enjoy this.

The news came about in the middle of the night. Alexander felt his heart skip a beat and drop all in the span of a few seconds. Eliza was the one to tell him, his back turned to her because he had been working on something up in his office. It was probably for the best. If she had seen him, looked him in the eye as she read the words “Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight,” she would’ve seen the face of a man breaking; seen the light drain from his face and from his eyes.

She had gone now, albeit reluctantly. After feeling the loving touch of her arms around his neck, Alexander had said he had so much work to do. For once he wasn’t in the mood to talk or to have anyone near.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have done that, because in times of silence he used his words against himself. But what else did an orphan have if not his thoughts and memories to terrorize him?

“You promised all those many nights ago, in the midst of the scent of blood and the noise of the sick, you promised me you’d be here.” Alexander whispered to himself, the shock wearing off. He was still sat at his desk, unable to find the desire to move. “I knew you’d be coming home any day now, you and I would have a victory drink and reunite with Mulligan and Lafayette, perhaps. I was so sure of so many things…”

And maybe that’s what hurt most to admit. All his life, Alexander had never been one to expect things. From the time of his childhood he had always known his time was limited. He looked for death around every corner, longed for it some nights, but it was never supposed to befall his beloved. He was the exception to the rule. He was the exception to the law. He was exceptional.

“Why didn’t they know? Why didn’t those fucking idiots know that the war was already–!”  _Snap_. Alexander let out a gasp as he fell back in his chair, a broken quill between his fingers. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding his quill. He hadn’t realized there were tears running down his cheeks.

“Jesus, John!” Alexander very rarely used Laurens’ Christian name, but his rationality wasn’t reliable right now. “You promised me!” the declaration was ripped from his throat as he pushed away from his office desk and rose to pace on his feet. “I knew you were reckless, I had heard stories, but this… If only I had sent that letter one, maybe two, days earlier, asking you to come with me… We could’ve fought side by side again, except it would’ve been with words and in the safety of Congress, I–”

He stopped. He couldn’t wake Eliza. He kept quiet.

God, he knew deep down he would never be able to allow himself to think of Laurens again, much less speak his name. What tragedy it is to suffer in silence, but Alexander knew himself. He knew the limits of what he could and couldn’t take. He swallowed and breathed deep and wiped the wetness from his eyes.

There was one thing he could do, though it’d mostly be for his own peace of mind.

Alexander retrieved a new quill from the second drawer of his desk, placed a clean sheet of paper in front of him, and began by dipping his quill in ink. As he went to write the first word, his hand stalled.

What do you say to someone who will never reply?

–

“Stop. Here is fine.” Alexander said to the coachman. South Carolina, a place where he never thought his heart would allow him to be in such a serene state. Henry Laurens had come to collect and properly bury his son a while ago, but Alexander couldn’t bear witness to it right away. Now however, as he walked up a grassy plain, he knew he would never have peace if he didn’t.

In a letter to Mr. Laurens, Alexander expressed his wish to be left alone upon arrival. He supposed that request was respected when no one greeted him on the lawn.

He headed straight for the cemetery to see a mound still relatively new. His heart dropped.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the finality of it all sure wasn’t it. Alexander stuck his tongue in his cheek and went on, biting back tears that were stronger than he was whenever Laurens was involved anymore. He was only there for one reason, after all.

In lieu of a big speech containing all the things he never said or all the regrets he was now realizing, he wrote a letter, neatly packed away with nothing scrawled on the outside. He laid it so that it was being propped up by the stone. When he got back to his feet, one of his hands carefully touched the cool headstone in front of him. “The country has lost a brave soldier, and I have lost a dear friend. No man knew me greater than you, and no man ever will. Adieu, mon cher.”

As he turned to go back to his coach, he felt a cold embrace, and it felt like home.


End file.
